And The Bible Didn't Mention Us
by Gray Doll
Summary: 'There will more than enough time to think of death and pain and revenge when the serial killer is upon them, or they upon him. But for now, Lisbon enjoys her unexpected freedom with her friends. And Lorelei, who must be the last person she ever would have expected to have along for a tour around the world.' Season 5 AU, eventual Jisbon
1. Parts I & II

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Mentalist nor its characters - if I did, Jane and Lisbon would be married with kids by now.

**Notes:** A random plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. It popped up about a week ago, when I sat back and re-watched the entire fifth season of the Mentalist (I still don't know why I did that, but it was worth it). Honestly, I was planning to write a season 6 tag-fic, taking into account everything that has happened in seasons 5 and 6, but then I started typing and this happened. For some reason, I wanted Lorelei in the story, so yeah, everyone, she's alive and well in this. Obviously, this is a season 5 AU, starting shortly after Jane bails Lorelei out of prison... This was going to be a one-shot, just a couple thousand words, but my muse was like "Nope!".

Thank you for reading!

* * *

**AND THE BIBLE DIDN'T MENTION US**

_One day Red John will find them, and he will kill them. It will be slow, and it will be painful, but at least it won't come as a surprise._

_Or maybe they will find him first. This brief break might give him a false sense of security, and then he'll slip up - everyone does, in the end. If he does, she knows she won't be able to stop Jane – or herself, for that matter – from killing the monster who has taken almost everything from them._

_But she tries not to think of that. There will more than enough time to think of death and pain and revenge when the serial killer is upon them, or they upon him._

_For now, she enjoys her unexpected freedom with her friends. And Lorelei, who must be the last person she ever would have expected to have along for a tour around the world._

* * *

**I – a saint's predicament**

Teresa Lisbon always tried to do the right thing.

She always put the safety and well-being of others before her own, stubbornly ignoring the small part of her that kept warning her that one day, her selflessness might be her downfall. She believed in making the world a better place – or at least trying to. Ever since her mother's death, she had fought to preserve whatever sparkle of hope had remained in her and her brothers' lives, and later on the protectiveness she had always felt over her siblings manifested itself into a need to protect strangers as well; she found that she wanted to help them see the light in the tunnel at the end, even try and walk them safely to it.

Bringing criminals to justice was a way of doing just that, and even though she could never make up for the lost lives, she could at least offer justice, some sort of closure to the bereaved families.

She always knew that this was her purpose in life. Only now it has been taken from her, and this time Lisbon is almost certain her suspension is not going to be temporary.

She has tried to be furious with her consultant for this, but she's come to nothing, knowing that this is her fault as much as it is his.

Patrick Jane, with his golden curls and the smile that can stop traffic. With his wild stunts and witty little quips. With his paper frogs and delicious fudge sundaes.

Patrick Jane, who has left her and the team without a word, leaving them to deal with the consequences of yet another failed attempt to catch Red John.

She doesn't blame him for this, at least not entirely, unlike her former teammates. She knows that Cho and Rigsby would love to find the silver-tongued man and punch him to the ground, while Grace would just want to slap the hell out of him.

But Lisbon knows that she too is at fault, though she dares not admit it out loud. She could have been more persistent, she could have refused to believe that Jane had indeed tracked down the serial killer, she could have been a proper cop and not let herself be tricked by her consultant yet again...

She feels a stinging pain in her chest every time she absentmindedly reaches for her Glock and finds emptiness where the familiar weight of her loyal weapon should be. She feels bare without the CBI badge tucked carefully inside her breast pocket, but still, the reality of no longer being Senior Agent of the Serious Crimes Unit is nowhere near as painful as knowing that Jane is out there, still madly looking for the man who has managed to slip right through their fingers yet again.

She had made a promise to herself, when she had first met Patrick Jane, that she would try to help him see the truth, that she would try to save him from the self-destructive path of vengeance and show him that there are things worth living for other than revenge, and now she can't help but feel that she has failed, miserably.

Perhaps one day she will get her job back. When the Director decides that there are less closed cases without her, he will probably re-employ her. Or she could try out for a different Unit. And of course, she will stay in touch with her teammates, because they have become so much more to her than just co-workers. They are her friends – no, they're her family.

But for now, she must focus on even more important things.

Like the pressing need to find Jane, before he ends up in jail, or worse, dead.

Like the anonymous letter she is now holding in her hand, along with a grand bouquet of blood-red roses.

She promptly thanks the scrawny teenager who's standing impatiently at her doorstep while signing the paper he's holding out to her, and gives him a small tip before nodding her head and closing the door.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself and slowly retreats into the safety of her house, her fingers trembling ever so slightly around the cream colored envelope. She can't imagine anyone who would send her a letter instead of calling her on the phone, and she knows no-one that would ever send her flowers. She tries to tell herself that it might be Jane, hoping to make amends from wherever he has disappeared to, but deep down she knows that is not the case.

She searches for a card among the roses and promptly throws the bouquet in the trash can when she finds nothing. Now her focus is solely on the seemingly harmless envelope that she opens with shaky fingers. She is mildly surprised when she doesn't find an epistle inside, but instead there is another paper, one that is black-and-white and smeared with what seems like red paint.

She stares at herself in the photograph, her smiling face framed by a red circle that has undoubtedly been drawn by methodical gloved fingers. She briefly considers sending it to Forensics but she is certain there will be no DNA or fingerprints on it other than her own, and decides it isn't worth the trouble.

Evening finds Lisbon sitting in her kitchen, her gaze alternating between the picture in her hands and the red roses lying crumpled in the dustbin. A thousand thoughts swirl in her head, each one worse than the last, and she can't help but wonder why Red John would send her a warning before actually coming after her. She comes to the conclusion that it is probably because he wants to scare her – mess with her head until she is nothing but a terrified shell of her former self when he finally comes to get her.

The realization is infuriating. With an anger she has not experienced in years, she tears the picture in two, then four pieces and throws them on the ground, her eyes burning with tears she fights hard not to spill.

She is not a frightened little girl. She is strong woman, she has faced California's worst criminals and has stayed upright, refusing to crumble under the overwhelming pressure time and time again. A faint smile crosses her lips when she remembers Annie calling her "badass".

She is still standing, and she will _not_ let herself be brought down by the twisted mind games of a psychopath.

As the clock ticks away, Lisbon remains curled up in the uncomfortable wooden chair, staring at the empty white wall across the room, thinking. The last thing she'll do is wait for the serial killer to come and get her. The day may come when he will, but when it does she's going to stand her ground.

But until then, there are things that need to be done. And one of them is to find Jane, before he sets up another impossible ruse to catch Red John. He is certainly one of the most brilliant men Lisbon has met in her entire life, but she knows he can't do this alone. Her gaze falls on the torn pieces of the photograph on the floor, and she is certain that if they are to catch the serial killer, once and for all, they have to be meticulous and careful.

And they can only do this if they are together. She knows that it won't be easy to locate Jane, especially not with the rekindled threat of Red John hanging above her head like an executioner's axe. Given her former consultant's ingenuity and cunning nature, and the ruthlessness of the serial killer, she understands that she's in for some serious trouble.

...But there might be someone who can help her.

* * *

Lorelei Martins is not evil, that much Lisbon knows. She is a woman who's had a rough past and an even rougher present, having only recently snapped out of the bubble she was comfortably living in.

Lisbon has never quite appreciated the woman, having taken an instant dislike to her the moment she had shamelessly claimed that she and Jane had been lovers. Back then, even though Lisbon would not admit it, it had been more jealousy than anything else that had fueled her anger, but as weeks had gone by many revelations had been made, and Jane's own confessions had been enough to somehow appease her.

She might not be a kind and innocent woman, but no, Lorelei is not evil. And Lisbon herself has not been pure white for many years, and somewhere in the middle is where the two women decide to meet, in a murky pub in the middle of the Californian desert.

Away from the stressful interrogation rooms of the CBI, Lorelei looks even more remarkably calm as she takes her seat opposite Lisbon and orders a black coffee. A small smile is tugging at the corners of her lips, however it looks slightly forced - Lisbon has no doubt fear and anxiety are simmering beneath that nonchalant facade.

"So." A single word, spoken in a soft, yet somehow unsure voice, that indicates the awkwardness (and of course, unlikeliness) of the situation.

"So," Lisbon repeats, locking gazes with the other woman. She tries to fathom these dark eyes, to decipher the emotions in them, but oddly, kind of like with Jane, there are close to none. Apart from the slight apprehension, that may very well be just her imagination, Lisbon can only see carefully constructed equanimity.

They remain silent for several long seconds, gauging each other's temperament, until the waitress returns with their beverages. They politely thank her and once they are alone again, the rest of the patrons paying them no mind, Lorelei speaks first.

"I find it hard to believe that you dragged me all the way here just to stare at me."

So it's time to lay out their cards. Better sooner than later. "I wanted to talk."

"About what?"

"You know."

"Red John?"

"Not only."

"Oh." Lorelei gingerly sips her coffee, only to scrunch up her face and set the mug back down with a small thump. "God, this thing is awful. Anyway. What are we here for? I mean, _truly_ here for? You can't have set this up in the hopes that I'm going to give you Red John."

Lisbon shakes her head, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She briefly revises her tactic before speaking, "No, I don't think you'll do that. And I'm not here for that. But, I doubt you haven't heard of some recent... events."

Lorelei cocks her head to the side, eying her carefully. "I have, of course. But what does the fact that you're suspended have to do with me?"

"It's not only that. I wouldn't have called _you_ if it was just that." It is relieving, really, that Lorelei seems to be more apathetic than nippy. She supposes it'll be easier to deal with dispassion rather than derision right now. "Jane's gone. And I want to find him."

Bemused, Lorelei arches an eyebrow. "Patrick's left you?"

"Yes." The answer comes off sharp and bitter. "But-"

"I'm sorry, but I find that hard to believe. Patrick loves you, he wouldn't just run away like that."

Lisbon tenses at Lorelei's words, her mind frantically searching for ways to change the subject. "Well, he did. And I want to find him, before he... Before he does anything stupid."

Lorelei gives a small shrug. "Well, judging from the last time he went rogue, I can't say he'll steer clear of stupidity." She pauses for a moment, the recollection of how terribly wrong that ruse to trap Red John had gone still fresh in both women's minds. "But I still don't see how I can help you with this... or why I should do it."

"It's not only that," Lisbon says for the second time, and at that Lorelei sits forward, resting her chin on the ball of her hand, a faint glint of interest in her eye.

"There's _more_ to it?"

"I received a gift earlier this week."

"Oh?" Lorelei smiles. "From whom?"

"Your friend," Lisbon replies, putting great effort into making her voice sound calm and nonchalant.

Following through with Lisbon's expectations, Lorelei sits back abruptly, frowning. "My... Wait, Red John sent you a gift?"

A nod.

"What kind of... gift?" Lorelei mutters, and for the first time that day she seems fairly jittery.

"A bouquet of red roses, and a picture of me inside a target-like circle. Made of red paint... or something else. I don't really want to know. And I guess that means something."

The silence between them is almost tangible, making both women shift uncomfortably in their seats. Lorelei looks down at the table, her fingers clenching and unclenching around her mug of coffee. "I don't know," she says eventually, eyes still downcast. "He-"

"Wants to kill me. Yeah. I got that." Lisbon hopes she could feel as unconcerned as she sounds. "And this is where you come in, and I ask for your help. And offer you mine, of course." Lorelei frowns, and she rushes to explain. "Look, I know how this sounds, but I've thought about it, over and over again, and I think it's the only way the two of us can cope with everything."

"Are you suggesting that we work together?" Lorelei folds her arms loosely about her chest, fixing Lisbon with a calculating stare. "Why? How do I know I can trust you?"

"It's simple, really. You've got nothing left to lose. Your life is already on the line, and so is mine."

"Simple? So we will join forces, and everything will work out because we're the invincible Lady Squad?" Lorelei's words are laced with sarcasm, and it takes every ounce of Lisbon's willpower to remain civil. This is important, and she has to make the other woman understand it.

"You want out of the life Red John's forced upon you. You want to find out if it was really him who killed your sister. You want a free will, and to never be manipulated and used by men again. You want to stay alive."

Lorelei shakes her head. "Perhaps I do," she admits slowly, her voice quivering ever so slightly. "And can _you_ give me all those things?"

"I can't promise that I will, but I can definitely promise that I will try my damnedest to keep us both safe. And help you out."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm neither one of _them_. Because I know the chances of having a rapport here are next to none, but I believe that we can communicate, and I truly want to help... and because I want your help too."

"With what?" Lorelei asks, squinting her dark eyes.

"You know. We have to find Jane. And stay alive until we manage to do that. And then... we'll see what we'll do with your dear friend. Neither of us can do that alone, I think, not with bloody targets painted on our backs."

Lorelei bites her lip deep in thought, slowly shaking her head. "I can't offer you immunity, Agent Lisbon. I can't even provide that for myself."

"That's not what I'm asking for. You can provide knowledge. And your admittedly impressive skills at evasion." Lisbon smiles, and Lorelei does the same, if only for a nanosecond.

"Well, I'm touched."

"I'm sure you are." She hesitates for a second. "How long?"

"Can I keep us hidden? Safe?" At Lisbon's nod, Lorelei shrugs, almost imperceptibly. "Months. Years. Many years, maybe, but I get that's not the point of all this."

"No, it's not. I think a few months will do. But... can _I_ trust _you_?"

"That's your choice to make, Agent. You'll either trust me fully, or not at all."

They fall quiet once again, the only sounds being the muffled chatter of the few other patrons, the nondescript music and the distinct clinging of glass. Each one gives the other a brief study before Lisbon breaks the oddly comfortable silence between them.

"Partners, then?"

At that, Lorelei smirks, but for once, she doesn't say anything.

* * *

All Lisbon has to do now is wait.

She throws some clothes, money she lifted from the bank a few days ago and a faded photograph of her at the age of sixteen with her brothers into a small satchel, and books a room in a motel near the coast.

The night before she leaves her house for the last time she curls up in her worn-out couch, with a cup of steaming coffee at her feet, and writes down short notes to VanPelt, Rigsby and Cho. She makes sure not to give any details of her plan away in her letters, but she is pretty sure everyone will make out she's ventured out into the world in search for Jane, even without her detailing her intentions on paper for them.

With shaking hands, she tells them that they have been and always will be her best friends, her family. She tells them to respect her choice and resume their lives and their good work at the CBI. She tells them that she loves them.

She tells them goodbye.

She doesn't bother to lock the door after she steps out of the place she can no longer call home; she wipes away tears on her way to the motel, reminding herself that she's made her choice and now has to stick with it.

She knows she had better get some sleep before leaving this temporary hiding place, but she tosses and turns in the screeching bed until the first crack of dawn. A few seconds after the clock strikes six the sound of knuckles against wood resonates in the quiet of the small motel room, and Lisbon throws her bag over her shoulder, makes sure the Glock she no longer has a permit for is safely tucked against her hip and rushes to the door.

Lorelei is waiting for her in the dark corridor, with nothing but a key ring at hand. "Car's outside," she says. "Better pay the receptionist now so we can hit the road before the sun rises completely."

A few minutes later, Lisbon steps into the other woman's car and makes herself comfortable in the passenger's seat. Lorelei tells her they will change rides after their first stop, and that she can drive then.

"Ready?"

She forces a smile. "Let's go get them."

**II – adjustment**

While Lisbon adjusts to cooperating with the former lover of the man she's been hunting for nearly a decade, they leave Sacramento and head east towards Phoenix, where Lorelei knows a man with useful connections to the FBI and no past related to Red John whatsoever. When Lisbon asks her if they can trust him, the other woman firmly reassures her that her old friend will help them, but the former Senior Agent can't help but doubt this, seeing how Lorelei was manipulated and kept under a serial killer's wing for years.

Temporarily getting out of the state, however, might help making their trace harder to trail and their return later on easier. So Lisbon agrees to follow Lorelei, who apparently knows more about running and hiding, to wherever she might deem they will be safe. She still has her doubts, but the better part of her knows that what comes first is their safety.

Because they can only start looking for Jane once they've made sure they won't get caught themselves.

They decide hitchhiking is the harder to shadow and thus safest way of travel and soon Lisbon finds that Lorelei's dulcet words and her big doe eyes are almost always enough to convince strangers to give them short rides. They inevitably stumble upon several suspicious drivers, though, and the occasional man who seems a bit too willing to have them in his backseat, and on these occasions they are quick to retreat and wait for someone else to stop at the gas station they're usually stranded in and pick them up.

One man tries to get them to empty their pockets once, brandishing a presumably stolen gun at them as soon as they enter his SUV, but he could not have foreseen that the seemingly harmless petite brunette with the green eyes would promptly point her own weapon at him, and much more expertly so.

They board the occasional bus when they want to cover longer distances, always making sure to keep a low profile, occupying the seats closest to the far end and avoiding smalltalk with the rest of the passengers. Their days are spent on the road and their nights in seedy motel rooms, both women tense as they wait for the sun to rise so they can be in the presence of others again, an excuse to avoid talking to each other.

Upon crossing the border to Arizona, Lorelei decides they must scatter the proverbial breadcrumbs in order to mislead whoever might be sent to sniff them out. Lisbon agrees, and her companion books them four tickets for two international flights – one to Rome, and the other to Toronto. Lisbon frowns deeply about the wasted money but Lorelei dismisses her concerns with a careless shrug, saying that if there is one problem they don't have, it's a financial one.

Lisbon decides not to press her further on about where she's gotten her money from – she doesn't really want to know, because what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

* * *

A hasty look at a calendar thrown carelessly under the car-seat informs Lisbon that she has been on the run for twelve days.

Twelve days of running circles around California and Arizona along with faceless, nameless drivers, and Lorelei, who has a look of determination plastered on her face as the two of them step out of yet another stranger's car and onto the hard concrete of the sidewalk.

The heat of Phoenix is sweltering but they pay it no mind while walking down the busy street. Lisbon is thankful that they don't seem to attract the gazes of strangers, but then, she imagines they are not exactly a sight to behold; with dark circles under their eyes, unkempt hair and wrinkled clothes, they could definitely use a bath and a soft bed, but these things come second.

What matters now is finding Lorelei's friend, or at least that's what she tells Lisbon, who still eyes her dubiously even after all those miles they've traveled together.

"You still don't trust me," Lorelei says pointedly once they cross the bustling road.

Lisbon doesn't meet her eyes, only tightens her grip on the duffel bug hanging from her shoulder and quickens her pace to keep up with Lorelei. "Of course I do. It's been twelve whole days and I've been doing as you say."

"You only follow me because you have nowhere to go on your own, and you have no resources outside your precious CBI, which you are no longer part of," Lorelei counters, surprisingly casual about the matter.

"Well, you'll have to forgive me if I don't trust you, then." They turn left on a small grocery store, only to find themselves in yet another identical neighborhood Lisbon has no idea how to navigate herself through. It's eerie to her that Lorelei seems to be so at ease here, looking like she knows exactly where she's going.

"I know," Lorelei says simply, casting Lisbon a sidelong glance. "But, as I told you that night in the pub, you'll either trust me fully or not at all. I know I trust _you_."

There is no middle ground here, and Lisbon knows she'll have to listen to her instincts. And her instincts tell her that Lorelei truly wants to help. That she wants to get away as much as Lisbon does. That she too wants to find Jane, even if it is for her own personal reasons. That she too wants to stay alive.

"Good, then," she says with a deep exhale. "Let's trust each other. But I still don't know where on earth we are, or where we're going."

Lorelei smiles just slightly. "I told you already, we got to catch up with Roland before we settle down."

"Who's Roland? And settle down... here? Don't you think it's too-"

"Roland's my friend, the one working for the Leponne crime family. He's one of their streetbosses, and the only one who owes me some favors. And no, we're not staying in Phoenix, it's way to close to California and all the puppets."

Puppets is what Lorelei calls Red John's disciples, the ones he has disbanded all over the state and the ones he probably has planted in other regions, too. Men and women who are blindly devoted to him, would gladly kill and die for him and would do anything to get on his good graces – like informing him about the whereabouts of a former acolyte now gone rogue. Every time Lorelei mentions them her voice is bitter and her expression hard, probably because she's thinking of how she used to be one of them, manipulated and treated as nothing but a disposable tool.

"How can Red John not know about Roland?"

"I never mentioned him." Lorelei's answer is succinct and simple, but not very reassuring. "Oh, you find that hard to believe?"

"A little," Lisbon admits, frowning. "I mean, it's only reasonable that Red John knows everything about you. You know, you were..."

"One of his puppets. Yeah, I haven't forgotten," Lorelei says dryly, speeding up as they make yet another turn left. "But I never thought Roland would be of any use to him, so I never cared to bring him up. I don't know, perhaps I even thought Roland might turn out to be a liability, so I never spoke of him."

A tall man with noncommittal features accidentally bumps into them, then promptly apologizes and resumes his walking. Lorelei huffs in annoyance, but Lisbon has other things in mind.

"Alright, but how can this Roland guy help us out? And he's a streetboss? Of a crime family? _Here in Phoenix_?"

"Shh!" Lorelei shoots her a sharp look. "We're in the middle of a moving crowd, don't be so loud!" Lisbon opens her mouth to say something but before she can do so Lorelei speaks again, leaning towards her conspiratorially, her voice coming out in hushed tones. "Don't imagine some great mafia here, it's really more of a gang thing, but run by a relatively wealthy family... Drugs, prostitution, thefts, blackmails, weapons... Things like that. But they do have a man inside the FBI, and that counts for something."

"I guess that man is Roland?"

"Kind of, yes. No, no, he's not an agent, he's more of an... informant, if you will... But yeah, also a double-agent of sorts." Lorelei gives her a small smirk as they shoulder past a tight cluster of cheering teens watching a street dancer's performance. "Hey, don't get all worked up. I know you're a cop and all, but you're not here to bring the bad guys to justice. You're on the other side now, don't forget that."

_On the other side_. It sounds weird, and not entirely true. She has not magically stepped into the world of crime and deceit, and she is certainly no Alice in Wonderland, however she cannot say with conviction that she is the same person she used to be a few months ago. _Desperate times call for desperate measures_, she thinks, and knows it to be true.

No, she _is_ still the same person. Her personality and beliefs have not changed because of the serial killer coming after them or the elusive conman making their lives even more difficult than they already are. She still dreams of the world being a better place, she still wants to help bring out the good in people, she still aches to help those who are in need.

But for the first time, she realizes, she also wants to take care of herself.

* * *

They leave Phoenix at night, to temporarily settle on the outskirts of Santa Fe, stopping for a few days at a time in modest hotels or apartments-for-rent, doing their best to pass as working-class citizens and sometimes even tourists. Lorelei seems comfortable enough with walking through the city streets and exploring the suburbs in pretty white sundresses and a ready smile on her lips, but Lisbon finds more difficulty in easing into this new life.

Lorelei wryly remarks that she's a terrible actress, and she doesn't even try to deny it. When her unlikely companion offers her private lessons in lying, Lisbon simply rolls her eyes and says that she might as well spend her days within the four walls of the hotel room, but she regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

No more than twenty-five days have passed since they left Sacramento, but already she feels that they're straying from their original purpose. It seems that what was initially searching for Jane has turned into a twisted version of hide-and-seek, and when she points that out to Lorelei, the latter merely sighs and reminds her that they have to get off Red John's radar first.

Lisbon has no choice but to agree and try her hardest to blend in with the home-growns. Roland's consistent updates on the FBI's movements are a reassuring aid, and she finds that it gets easier and easier by the day to loosen up, and even enjoy what this newfound hideout has to offer.

Lorelei grins when one morning Lisbon announces she will accompany her to the stores, and for the first time in what feels like decades the only thing on Lisbon's mind is what shoes match that gorgeous navy blue shirt. To her great surprise, Lorelei is of great help when it comes to her tentative attempts at light-hearted conversation, and they are all too willing to chat about dresses and faux Mexican cuisine rather than the manhunt that must be upon them.

That night, however, Lisbon leaves Lorelei sleeping soundly on the double bed and walks out into the small veranda, noiselessly closing the shutters behind her. She slumps down on one of the wooden chairs and stares out at the quiet neighborhood, illuminated only by the soft moonlight. She sits there for what feels like hours, listening to the repetitive chants of the harvest flies and wondering whether she made the right choice.

She tries to conjure an image of Jane, where he might be and what he might be doing. She sees him bent over a desk with papers and folders sprawled across it, his eyes wild as he rummages through his files and scribbles down hasty notes. Or he could be lying on a new makeshift bed, eyes fixed on a foreign ceiling – or he could be back at the CBI, balancing a cup of Earl Grey brewed to perfection in his hand while maneuvering through the bullpen, his eyes searching around for her but not finding her there.

A lump rises in her throat, a wave of guilt washing through her the moment she realizes she's been buying clothes and joking about food while Jane is out there hunting shadows, and her former team probably losing their sleep trying to track her down.

The tears come uninvited, and quickly they turn into sobs that wreck her small body, once strong but now feeling frail and fragile. She buries her head in her hands and weeps, for the life she's lost, the people she's left behind and the pain she has surely caused them.

She doesn't look up when she feels a thin arm find its way around her shoulders, and only cries harder when she hears a soft feminine voice whisper soothing words in her hair.

"It's okay, calm down," Lorelei whispers, and the sudden oddity of the situation is enough to startle Lisbon so that she lifts her head and stares at Lorelei, dumbfounded. She remains still for several long seconds before abruptly pulling back and wiping her tears with an angry hand, heat rushing to her cheeks.

"Are you alright?" Lorelei asks tentatively, still crouched down beside Lisbon.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." She brushes a loose strand of hair from her face and stands, smoothing her night jersey with sweaty palms. "Everything's fine. I just got a bit... emotional there for a second, that's all."

Lorelei doesn't look convinced.

"Really, Lorelei, go back to bed. I'll be back inside in a minute."

"Are you sure?" The worried look in the other woman's eyes does not seem feigned, and Lisbon feels an ounce of surprise at the sight of Lorelei looking at her with genuine concern.

"Yes, I'm fine." The strength is back in her voice, and she thanks God for that. "Honestly, let's just get back inside. It's getting chilly out here anyway," she says hastily, wrapping her arms tightly around her body despite the pleasant heat of the summer night.

* * *

One evening, Lorelei storms into the room and starts throwing whatever clothes and money they have accumulated into their bags, frantically informing Lisbon that one of Red John's men has managed to locate them.

"What?" Lisbon knows she shouldn't be as surprised as she is, but the relative calmness of the past few days was apparently enough to lure her into a figurative slumber. She helps Lorelei with packing, and asks whether the disciple has informed Red John of their whereabouts.

"Don't worry," Lorelei says with a dark expression. "I took care of him."

Lisbon pauses for a moment, looking at her with narrowed eyes. "What did you do?"

Lorelei shrugs and zips the last of their bags. "He's not going to bother us ever again, that's for sure."

"_Lorelei_." She takes a step back, eyes blazing as she stares at the other woman. It is a fact that Lisbon is no longer an officer of the law, but sitting back and doing nothing while Lorelei might as well be murdering people is not something she is willing to do.

"You should be grateful," Lorelei snaps, whipping her head around to stare back at Lisbon. "If it weren't for my gun, we'd both be dead now, or _worse_."

Lisbon shakes her head, exasperated. Until now, she didn't even know Lorelei was carrying a gun of her own, though she admits to herself it was something she should have expected. "You can't just go around killing people, Lorelei!"

"Oh, spare me your moralizing." Lorelei's tone is filled with disdain. "It was either him or us. Besides, don't tell me _you_ haven't killed your fair share of people."

Lisbon goes quiet at that. She supposes Lorelei is right – it was certainly not an innocent man that died today, and if it was self-defense...

Later, when the two women are safely curled up in a narrow bus seat, Lisbon leans closer to Lorelei, her voice barely above a whisper. "How exactly did he find us?"

Lorelei's expression indicates that the answer might be slightly embarrassing. "He didn't _find_ us exactly..."

"Then what?"

"Well," Lorelei looks out of the window. "I kind of bumped into him. He recognized me, and probably Red John has told his puppets to be on the lookout for me. There were people around, so he told me to walk to the nearest park, and that he had a gun... Obviously the moron thought I'd be unarmed."

"I thought the same thing until now," Lisbon says flatly, and Lorelei gives her an incredulous look. "Anyway," she says hastily, "what happened next?"

"I played along. We went to the park, and of course there was not a soul around, so he drew his gun. I drew mine."

"And you were quicker, thankfully," Lisbon finishes, sitting back in her seat with a small sigh. "But how did this happen? Does he have his followers scattered in every state?"

"They're surely not all in California," Lorelei notes, and if her countenance is anything to go by, she is furious with herself. "I was fucking stupid today. I didn't think for a minute that I might run into one of them... If we make more mistakes like this, we'll be dead before the next month."

"You couldn't have predicted that," Lisbon says softly, and both are slightly taken aback by her tone. Lisbon's mind briefly goes back to the night Lorelei found her crying in the veranda, and instead of laughing at her or simply ignoring her, she had crouched down beside her and comforted her.

Lorelei is probably thinking the same, for her cheeks color slightly and she averts her gaze from Lisbon's.

"Yeah, well."

The air between them is suddenly thick with awkward tension, and Lisbon doesn't think she'll be able to go through this for the rest of their ride. She clears her throat slightly, then puts a hand on Lorelei's right forearm.

Lorelei looks at her questioningly, arching an eyebrow at the unexpected contact.

"Look, I know this might be... well, a bit weird, but..." Lisbon struggles with words for a moment, trying to find the right ones to describe what she wants to say. "What I mean is, since we've established that we can trust each other, we could actually try to get past all this... this..."

"Dislike that we have for each other?"

Lisbon rolls her eyes, pulling her hand away from Lorelei as the other woman gives a small smirk. "I wasn't going to say it like that, but yes. I mean, we're practically working together now, we might as well start liking each other... hell, at least we can try, though I don't see how we're going to accomplish that."

She can't help the smile that forms on her lips when Lorelei chuckles, nudging her slightly. "Sure thing, Teresa. You'll see, you and I will become the best of friends."

Lisbon rests her head back on the bus seat, still smiling. "Oh, great. Maybe after we take care of everything we can braid each other's hair and talk about boys."

"Oh, and paint our nails pink while watching _Sex and the City_."

They spend the rest of the bus ride in a strangely companionable silence, and when they're finally out of town and in a gas station once again, Lisbon asks where they're heading next.

"I was thinking we should leave USA, but I knew you wouldn't agree," Lorelei says, ignoring Lisbon's glare. "So I guess we could just move from state to state for now, until we get completely off Red John's radar. Then we go round looking for Goldilocks... assuming he'll stay quiet and in one place until we do that."

Lisbon sighs, looking around the gas station with her hands in her pockets. "Great. So we stay here, eat something, and wait until someone willing to drive us to, say, Colorado shows up."

Lorelei folds her arms loosely about her chest, staring out at the empty road. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

They rent a small apartment outside of Denver, property of an old lady who was willing to make them a good discount if they helped her with the laundry twice a week. This time, both women are less inclined to spend much time in the bustling city, fearing they might be spotted by someone more intelligent than the man Lorelei managed to take out in Santa Fe. One day, while ironing their own and their housekeeper's clothes, Lorelei says that they would be harder to recognize if they altered their hair.

Lisbon isn't willing to change anything about her hair. It's taken her years to grow them in length, and studiously avoiding hair salons has become routine to her by now. She rather likes her color, too – she knows it goes well with her pale skin and emerald eyes, and she cannot deny she has received quite a few compliments about it as well.

Lorelei doesn't seem to have such qualms, and she risks a visit to a hairdresser's early one morning. She tries for nearly an hour to persuade Lisbon to go with her, but the latter stubbornly refuses, leaving Lorelei to go alone.

When she returns to their apartment a good four hours later, Lisbon almost doesn't recognize her – which, she reasons, is certainly a good thing. Lorelei's short dark hair has been replaced by wavy hair extensions the color of sand, reaching halfway down her back.

"Blonde's not really my color," she says with a shrug, "but it sure is a hell of a change, don't you think?"

Lisbon doesn't ask where she found the money for such an extravagant new hairdo, knowing she probably stole a respectable amount of cash and took it with her the night they left Sacramento. Instead, she repeats that she isn't willing to do anything to her own hair, refusing the bottle of bleacher Lorelei tries to shove in her hand.

With a frustrated sigh, Lorelei slumps down on the bed next to Lisbon, giving her an indignant look. "You don't have to go Barbie-blonde if you don't want to, but at least do _something_. A light brown dye, and a different style... a bob would look good on you."

It takes two whole days for Lorelei to convince Lisbon to buy a hair dye, and meticulously helps her with the tricky process. After they're done, Lisbon stares at her reflection in the mirror, mournfully shaking her head. Soft honey-brown curls frame her face, and even though she likes the color, she thinks it's plain horrible on her.

Lorelei rolls her eyes and smiles before leaving, telling Lisbon she's going out to buy them some food for the night, but Lisbon knows she'll be talking on the phone with Roland, asking him to provide her with more information on the FBI agents that are searching for her. She might as well be asking for resources, connections and money and weapons that might help her get closer to finding out who truly was behind her sister's death.

Lisbon is certain that deep down, Lorelei knows it was Red John. She understands that the other woman wants to be absolutely certain, and in a way, it is fairly convenient. As long as Lorelei is focused on keeping them safe rather than seeking revenge, she'll have more chances to find Jane.

As she lies on the bed watching a dull talk show on the TV, waiting for Lorelei to return with their dinner and debating whether they should buy cellphones, she hears the doorbell ring, the rippling sound reverberating around the dark apartment.

She abruptly turns off the TV and gets off the bed, her hand automatically reaching for her gun. She curses when she remembers it's in the kitchen - she runs to fetch it and only starts for the door when her Glock is safely in her hand, her mind racing with possibilities as the bell rings again.

She knows it can't be Lorelei, who has her own keys. She tries to calm herself, repeating in her head that anyone who might be working for Red John wouldn't give her time to prepare herself by ringing the bell. But what if it's the FBI? What if they've managed to track them down?

She desperately struggles to remember if they've made any mistakes, if they've left behind evidence of their presence in motels and gas stations. Perhaps one of the drivers who took them from Sacramento to here has recognized Lorelei and notified the FBI... maybe one of the passengers they shared bus rides with was one of Red John's accomplices, or even an undercover agent following them all the way from California.

Her hand reaches out for the handle, and she damns whoever built the house for not putting a spy hole on the door. Though she keeps her fingers tight around her gun, she makes sure not to keep it in plain view, knowing that would cost her if whoever is outside turns out to be an officer of the law.

With one decisive move, she pulls the door open, only to stand there in shock, her mouth agape as the gun drops to the floor with a loud clatter.

She can't seem to find her voice, and for several endless seconds she stays rooted to the spot, her eyes wide. She shakes her head, and when she finally speaks, her voice comes out as a sharp exhale.

"Jane?"


	2. Parts III & IV

**Notes: **I am so, so sorry for taking so long to update. Honestly, I have no excuse other than that my life has been truly crazy and that I've been writing mostly one-shots lately. Well, this particular chapter is mostly a filler-up – and this is where the M rating gets important, though not so much as it will be later. Also, try to imagine that Cho's either over Summer, or that he never got involved with Summer in the first place while reading this. It does pain me a bit to say it, as Summer was one of my favorite characters, but for this story she just didn't work.

Also, about Red John; he is going to play a bigger role in the following chapters, and I should tell you that in this story, he isn't the canon Red John (mostly because I started writing this before the revelation of his identity on the show).

The title of the story will also become relevant as the story progresses...

Thank you for reading, and many special thank you's to everyone who's taken the time to review!

* * *

**III – reunion**

She feels like the wind has been knocked out of her.

Lisbon can't tell how long she's been standing there, one hand still frozen around the door handle, staring at the man who's standing less than three feet away from her. He looks every bit like she the cheery consultant she remembers – only slightly disheveled, his golden curls longer and all over the place, and short, nearly indiscernible facial hair running the length of his jawline.

She wants to say something, anything, but words fail her entirely and she finds herself unable to utter even the shortest of sentences. So she waits for him to speak first, a thousand questions whirling in her mind as she holds her breath expectantly.

He stares back, and she can tell the hesitant smile that slowly stretches across his face isn't forged. She doesn't know what she expects to hear from him now – an apology for leaving her? An explanation of how he found her? Or could he be so impudent as to reprimand her for going rogue with Lorelei?

Several long seconds pass before he finally speaks.

"What did you do to your hair?"

A strangled sound bubbles low in her throat, something between a sob and a laugh, and her vision blurs, her eyes burning against the cool breeze that comes in through the open door. She wants to hug him, and punch him to the ground, and smother him with kisses all at once.

She steps forward, and slaps him hard across the face.

"Ow!" Jane yelps, raising his hand to his stinging cheek. "What was that for?"

Lisbon's eyes widen, and she gives him an incredulous look. "You don't know? You _seriously_ do not know?" And she'd always thought him to be exceptionally insightful.

He shakes his head, feigning offense, but then his expression changes and he sighs. His smile gives way to a deep frown, and in his eyes Lisbon can see reflected the hardships he's been through all this time away from her.

Her first instinct is to feel sorry for him, to try and comfort him, tell him that everything's going to be alright.

But then she remembers that she's been through hell and back herself, once again because of him.

"Lisbon," he starts, his voice sounding like a plead, but she cuts him off.

"How could you do this to us? To _me_?" All her worries and that precious, albeit brief sense of relief have subsided, and white hot anger is now surging through her veins. It is an emotion she's not familiar with – she's experienced pain, hurt, anguish, all because of him, and yes, anger too, but none like this. For the first time, she thinks she won't be able to forgive him.

But then she's being pulled flush against him, his strong arms going around her thin frame and holding on tight, as if for dear life. Her natural response to the gesture is to push him away, but her hands are trapped between their bodies, and even though she could easily overpower him if she wanted to, she realizes with a slight jolt that she doesn't want to. She knows then, she will always forgive him. Even if it hurts like hell.

It's what she's always done.

And isn't that why she ran in the first place? To find him?

_And to save yourself,_ whispers the unbidden little voice that has become so terribly vocal since her departure, but it's never been easier to silence it than now.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Lisbon," he murmurs against her hair, and she has to fight back the tears that well in her eyes. Her face is pressed against his chest and she breathes in his scent – she has missed it more than she'll ever dare to admit, and she wants to savor every single moment in his arms, knowing that after a few hours both of them will have found their senses again.

Lisbon doesn't cry. Her eyes are closed against the fabric of his light gray vest and she sighs, almost contentedly, even though the feeling of his arms around her is something she knows she shouldn't revel in.

Jane's hold on her grows progressively looser, though, and she is more than aware of the pressing need to talk instead of touch. Before she can pull away, however, a voice from somewhere behind them interrupts their lingering embrace.

"What's going on-" Lorelei's voice trails off as her gaze falls upon them, and Lisbon is quick to shove Jane away, mildly surprised that the latter willingly retreats.

Lorelei blinks a couple of times as she surveys them, her stance visibly relaxing with each passing second. Her dark eyes go from narrowed to normal again, surprise mixed with understanding flashing in them.

"I wasn't expecting you tonight," she says finally, looking at Jane. She holds out a paper bag with a bright green sticker on it, and her next words are almost apologetic. "I only got dinner for two... But I guess I can leave you two be and go out by myself tonight."

Her trademark smirk is back in place, but Lisbon has spent more than enough time with Lorelei to be able to discern the tell-tale signs of effort behind the younger woman's untroubled facade. Lorelei looks at them both with the expression of someone watching a particularly interesting movie scene, but her shoulders are tense and her grip on the paper bag tight.

Lisbon doesn't waste any more time analyzing Lorelei's countenance, focusing instead on what she just said. She turns to Jane, who has averted his gaze from her to Lorelei, his blue eyes boring into the other woman's dark ones.

When the strained silence becomes too much to bear, Lisbon snaps.

"Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?" Her voice is husky, the lump she's had in her throat since Jane's appearance on her doorstep not fully gone yet.

Lorelei gives a small sigh, and gives the take-out to Lisbon. "Here," she says, "I think I'll just go and grab another one for myself. You two seem like you have some serious talking to do."

It doesn't take a genius to know Lorelei is trying to weasel her way out of this precarious situation, and Lisbon decides not to stop her. She and Jane remain quiet until they hear the creaking sound of the garden gate, signaling that Lorelei has left, probably off to a fast-food diner.

Taking a deep breath to calm her growing nerves, Lisbon starts for the living room, knowing Jane will promptly follow.

As they sit across each other on the narrow timeworn couch, Lisbon debates whether she should speak first, but thankfully Jane makes that decision for her.

"Lisbon, before I tell you anything, you need to know that I _had_ to leave." His gaze, intense, locks with hers, as if he's trying to pour the truth of his words through his eyes.

Lisbon sighs. "Had to? Like that time when you faked your breakdown and went to Vegas for six months?"

Jane looks as if she's slapped him again, the remembrance of his failed escapade clearly unsettling him. Briefly, Lisbon thinks that she's never seen him so expressive.

"No, it wasn't like that," he says slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Last time I... it was all an act, and I hadn't told you, or anyone else, because I had to make myself believable... You know that."

"But it didn't go according to plan, did it?" she asks, only half-regretting her biting tone.

"No, but-"

"Okay, enough with the whole Vegas-operation-gone-wrong discussion," Lisbon says sharply. "Will you tell me about the latest disappearance of yours and why it was so necessary?"

Jane stares at her for a few seconds, looking like he's battling with himself. "After that... attempt to catch Red John failed..."

"You mean the insane car chase that caused two deaths, three injuries and my suspension?"

He gives a sigh. "I told you I'm sorry. I truly am, Lisbon." _He does seem honest_, she thinks, but waits for him to continue. "Well, after that car chase that resulted in everything you just said, one of Red John's disciples turned on me and tried to shoot me."

Lisbon frowns slightly. "I remember that. But wasn't he arrested eventually?"

"No, he wasn't. Anyway, apparently killing me was against Red John's orders, so he – the disciple – was found dead the next day."

"No way, Jane. I would have known – I'm a cop, for God's sake!"

"You _were_ a cop," Jane corrects her, but quickly resumes his narration when he receives a sharp glare from Lisbon. "Well, you didn't find out, because you were already suspended, and of course Bertram had no obligation to tell you. And because you are the primary suspect for the murder of Gerald Scott – Red John's man."

Lisbon's jaw nearly drops to the floor. "_What_?"

"Lisbon, don't look at me like that, only an idiot would believe it was you." He takes a deep breath. "Apparently, you were framed for that murder. The bullet that killed him was from your gun, and your fingerprints were found all over his jacket."

"But I never-"

"I know, Lisbon," Jane says patiently, shifting ever so slightly closer to her. "As I said, someone framed you. I left, because I wanted to find out who it was. And no, I did not get to some faraway country, I was still in Sacramento, whether you believe it or not." He gives her a small smirk. "I'm rather good at hiding."

Lisbon blinks rapidly, her mind slowly processing the newly acquired information. "But... why would anyone want to frame me? Why now? And why the hell didn't you tell me, Jane?"

"If I'd told you and someone found out you had contacted me, then they'd assume I'm helping you with whatever it is they think you're trying to do by killing Red John's men and running off."

"_Men_?"

Jane makes a face. "Oh, yes - there is word at the CBI that you're also responsible for two other people's death, both of them dead for quite some time now, and now both confirmed associates of Red John. I don't know, maybe the CBI thinks you've turned into some sort of a vigilante avenger, Lisbon."

Lisbon stares at him, dumbfounded. "But... _why_ would anyone want to frame me for those murders?"

Jane gives her a long stare, seemingly unsure whether he should tell her or not. Lisbon fixes him with a sharp glare, folding her arms tightly about her chest.

"If you don't want to tell me, probably because you're scared I'll be upset, just know that I will simply beat the truth out of you anyway." She pauses, realization slowly dawning on her as it suddenly occurs to her that he still hasn't told her how the hell he found them. "It has to do with you finding us – and Lorelei knowing you'd come. Doesn't it?"

He shuts his eyes for a moment; when he opens them again, her heart almost misses a beat at the sight of the turbulent sea in them. She's only seen him like this in Red John crime scenes; while chasing Red John; while talking about his family and his revenge; while discussing and doing anything even remotely related to Red John.

"Jane," she breathes, placing a hand on his knee. "Tell me what's going on. Please."

He stays silent for several long, agonizing seconds. Then he draws a shuddering breath and looks her straight in the eye.

"I haven't told you the entire truth," he says, and for some reason it doesn't surprise her. She only nods, waiting for him to continue.

"Lorelei didn't agree to help you only because you asked her to," he tells her, and she frowns.

"Yeah, she wants out of the life Red John's forced upon her," she says warily. "And she wants to find out more about her sister's death-"

"No, Lisbon, please just let me speak," Jane interrupts. "But before I tell you anything, promise me you won't flip."

She arches an eyebrow – she most certainly doesn't like the sound of this. "Jane, what is going on? What have you done?"

"Me? Nothing. Well, not nothing, but it was for your own-"

"Jane. No more subterfuges. Just tell me." Her tone is sharp, demanding – and even to her own ears she sounds scared.

He sighs. "Before you and Lorelei met in that pub, before you agreed to... work together, I had already spoken to her."

She nods. "Okay. And?"

"I asked her some questions – about Red John, of course. And she told me things."

"What kinds of things?"

"He-" for a moment his eyes are everywhere but on her, and when he speaks again he sounds almost angry. "He wants you."

Lisbon blinks once, twice. "Yeah, he made that pretty clear when he asked for my head in a box a few months ago."

Jane shakes his head, now looking positively furious. "No, not just that – he doesn't want you dead. He wants to do it himself, but not-" he pauses, words seeming to fail him for what she is sure is the first time in years. "Lorelei told me that he wants to keep you, for a while. Before killing you."

"_Keep_ me?" She shudders. "Why?"

"Why do you think?" Jane snaps, his eyes wild. "To torture you, sleep with you-" his voice breaks, and he swallows. "I'm sorry," he whispers, running a hand through his tousled hair, struggling to remain calm.

Lisbon remembers the photograph, her face in the red circle and the bouquet of blood-red roses.

She feels like she wants to vomit.

"There's no need to apologize," she whispers, barely audible in the quiet of the room. Her hands are trembling ever so slightly. "But-"

"Well, anyway, after that... revelation I told Lorelei about her sister, and she told me she already knew – that's why she didn't run back to her beloved master as soon as she was out of jail" Jane continues, his voice once again steady (but his eyes still blazing). "And we agreed that she could keep you away from Red John while I gathered information about the murders of his disciples, until I was ready to resurface and come back to you."

"So you trusted Red John's former mistress with my safety?" she asks, raising her eyebrows in disbelief despite the shivers still running down her spine. "Thank you, Jane, for thinking I cannot take care of myself and that I need a babysitter - and a wanted woman at that."

"You went to ask for her help yourself," he says pointedly, and almost laughs when she gives him a soft punch on the shoulder. "Lisbon, you know I know how perfectly capable you are of taking care of yourself. But Red John... he has people everywhere, even inside the CBI. If he wants you so badly, he'll move mountains to have you, and Lorelei is the only person who knows him well and is on _our_ side."

A few months ago, Lisbon would have either laughed or scoffed at Jane's remark. But after having spent so much time with Lorelei, she's come to know that the other woman is, truly and without a doubt, on their side. If her intention had been to double-cross them to get back on Red John's good graces, she'd certainly had innumerable chances to do so already. The fact that she'd stuck with Lisbon for so long had proved that she'd truly renounced her old life as Red John's acolyte.

"So let me get this straight. Right now, I'm being chased by Red John and his people, because he wants to have his wicked way with me and then cut me open, _and_ by the CBI and whoever else because they think I'm a vigilante avenger going after and shooting down a serial killer's disciples. Correct?"

Jane gives her a wobbly smile. "Correct."

"And while I was running from one state to another with Lorelei, you two were in cahoots and you knew perfectly well where I was and what I was doing. Correct?"

"Correct."

"Oh, how marvelous," she says with a huff, collapsing against the pillows. "This just _can't_ get any better. I suppose our only option now is to run." She forces herself to smirk. "_Correct_?"

Jane gives her a smile that is somewhere between apologetic and pained. "Correct, Lisbon. Three out of three."

She runs a hand over her face, letting out a deep breath. "Great. Simply _great_. And what about the team?"

She raises her eyebrows when Jane takes that look of utter guilt combined with subtle mischief she is inevitably familiar with.

"Rigsby and VanPelt are in Italy, Cho's in a nearby motel."

"_What_?"

He raises his hands in the air in a 'don't shoot' gesture. "Woah, Lisbon, don't get so worked up! Both Wayne and Grace needed some time away in an exotic location, together. You know how these things are! And I couldn't possibly leave Cho behind-"

"So the entire team is on the lam because of me?"

"Lisbon, you make it sound very melodramatic."

"This is _not_ funny, Jane!" she snaps, springing to her feet and planting her hands firmly on her hips. "Are Rigsby and VanPelt alright?"

He rolls his eyes. "I just told you, woman, they're sunbathing and coupling in Italy. They're far better off than we are, that's for sure."

"And Cho?"

"Cho's waiting for my call to leave that pathetic excuse of a motel and come join us."

She doesn't know how long she stands there for, eyes shut and her hands on her forehead as she tries to process everything. Finally, she says,

"Great. So now we gotta run. Until-"

"Until nothing, Lisbon. Until we decide it's time to come back. Until Red John and your former coworkers stop looking for you. Until your name's cleared."

She sighs. "I suppose now you're going to call Cho and Lorelei?"

He grins, and she is overtaken by the sudden urge to punch that dazzling smile off his face. "Your assumption is, once again, correct."

"Gee, thanks," she says sarcastically. "And then what?"

"We'll think of something."

* * *

That night, while Jane is waiting for Cho and Lorelei in the living room Lisbon pretends to be asleep in her bedroom, and thinks.

Her cheeks are wet with white hot tears, and she's swallowed a mouthful of sleeping pills that haven't done anything yet.

This is all happening because of her – and she can't take it. She can't watch the lives of those closest to her crumble, knowing that it is her fault.

Life isn't a game with carefully weighted skill sets on each side, and some enemies can't be beaten.

So Lisbon once again does the same thing she did when she still thought this was all about her friend and consultant; she writes meticulous notes to him, Cho, and even Lorelei. She begs them to forgive her, and to understand that she must think of the many over the few – over herself.

She tells them that she's sorry.

She tells them goodbye.

She slips outside through the back door, wrapped in a dark coat and carrying her small satchel, a few dollars that she swiped from Lorelei's suitcase in her jeans pocket.

She's only walked a few feet down the empty road before the sleeping pills start to work.

* * *

When she awakes, she is lying on the couch of the small apartment-for-rent. "Why did you do this, boss?" Cho asks, his face stoic as ever – but he's holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, no doubt the one Lisbon left for them to find.

"Lisbon," Jane says, and he's trying to keep his voice calm, but his eyes are manic. "What on earth were you thinking?"

She closes her eyes, holds up a hand. Her limbs are numb and her head pounds like she has a hangover. Unthinkingly, she makes a growling sound at the men when they crowd over her, and she reluctantly opens her eyes again.

Her vision is blurry and her head drops back against the couch. "I feel like shit," she says with a small moan.

Cho rolls his eyes, but tension is apparent in every move he makes. "Well, you would, wouldn't you?"

Jane clutches her hands. "Lisbon, we agreed to stick together. Where did you think you would go?"

Before she can respond, there is a soft squeak as the front door opens. Lorelei is there in the doorway, balancing three cups of steaming coffee in her hands.

"Martins." The apprehension and tenseness are palpable in Cho's voice, but obviously Jane has already filled the man in on their unlikely partnership with Red John's former mistress.

"We had a deal," Lorelei reminds Lisbon impatiently, her stance untroubled but her eyes flickering warily between Jane and Cho. She places the cups on the coffee table and hovers beside the couch, watching as Lisbon slowly pulls herself in a sitting position.

"I know. But-"

"There's no _but_, Lisbon," Jane says, his voice now sharp. "You have to understand what this means. I've been hunting Red John for a decade, and now I'm willing to damn it all to hell and follow you to the end of the world in order to keep you away from him. I'm putting your safety before my need for revenge. I'm going to run with you – we'll be one step, two steps ahead, and when he's catching up, that's when we'll get right behind him."

"And how exactly are we going to do that?"

He offers a small smile, but his merry facade has never looked more forced than it does now. "That, we'll see."

Finally, Lisbon lets out a long sigh and brushes a loose strand of hair away from her face. "Oh, fuck it," she says. "Just make sure to get all your cash."

* * *

**IV – acceptance**

The next few days pass in tense evenings spent in seedy motel rooms and days spent in the backseats of SUVs driven by strangers, and Lisbon can't help but think that if she has to go through it all again, she'll lose it completely.

Because now it's not just her and another woman, and things are definitely not the same.

Sometimes she forgets herself, and she realizes after it's too late that she's put her hand in Jane's, clutching his fingers so hard her own knuckles begin to ache. But he never says anything, he never makes a move to push her away; and after a few times when she's found herself leaning close to him, she realizes that she's comfortable with Jane.

He doesn't treat her too delicately, he doesn't talk about the manhunt that must be after them, he doesn't mention his revenge or her own predicament, he doesn't fear for her or what they're doing.

That's okay, because she fears enough for all of them.

They try not to talk too much about Red John, but Lisbon can't help asking Jane why he hasn't tricked Lorelei into revealing his identity to them yet. Calmly, Jane answers that she doesn't know who he is, leaving Lisbon to stare at him, dumbfounded.

"How can she not know?" she asks, frowning, and Jane tells her that the other woman has only ever seen her master wearing a mask. "And you believe her?" Lisbon insists.

When Jane replies that yes, he does, she decides not to press the subject any more. After all, Jane never trusts anyone until he's one hundred percent sure about their credibility. And he certainly has his way of knowing when one tells the truth and when they don't.

One morning at a motel in Dallas, Lorelei announces that they should leave USA, at least for a few months. Lisbon is hesitant, but Jane agrees. Cho simply shrugs his shoulders, and doesn't utter a single word. Sometimes Lisbon thinks this must be harder on him than it is for them; at least she has Jane, and vice versa, while Cho can only rely on his bonds of friendship with Lisbon.

Lorelei books them a flight from DFW to Dubai, and then once they are through security, they leave and board another international flight with four empty seats that turn out to be two pairs; by unspoken agreement Lisbon goes with Jane, and Cho remains impassive as he sits down next to Lorelei, who's looking outside the narrow window with her hands folded together on her lap.

Lisbon doesn't even know their destination until the plane pulls out of the terminal (she hadn't even bothered to ask Jane about it) and the pilot's voice comes over the loudspeaker. "Boa tarde, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome aboard US Airways Flight 814, headed to GIG Airport, Rio de Janeiro."

Brazil. She's going to Brazil, and a psychopath and a misguided law enforcement unit are the only things left for her back home.

She buries her face in Jane's shoulder and weeps.

* * *

The days fade behind Lisbon like old Polaroids as she adjusts to the life of a woman on the run (no matter how hard Jane tries to convince her that they're simply taking a _break_).

They settle on the outskirts of Rio, this time stopping for a few days at a time in modest hotels near the working-class neighborhoods, avoiding any hint of luxury or decadence Red John or law enforcement agents might be drawn to. Jane always books them two double rooms, and they pair off by gender like they're at church camp.

Most of their days are spent walking the sprawling streets of the city edge, sometimes even wandering to Copacabana beach on the southern coast of the city, where Lisbon stares at the teal water for hours and wonders if they made the right choice.

Sometimes they play tourists, and Lisbon absorbs the sights and smells of the city with the fervor of a terminally ill person on her last vacation. Lorelei, who is exceptional at languages, speaks Portuguese well enough to pass as a woman who has spent a few years living in the country – she smirks and whispers to Lisbon when one of the men, who struggle with dictionaries and encyclopedias to learn the basics, slip up and use American phrases that make absolutely no sense to the locals.

Their evening before bed are spent together talking, dining, arguing and planning their next move. Lorelei points out that their lives would be longer if they stayed inside the four walls of the hotel room, where it would be almost impossible for Red John's men to sniff them out.

Lisbon tells her that she's missing the point. That there is no need to do this at all if they can't see at least some of what the world has to offer.

When the conversations grow weighted with silence, Lisbon offers, again and again, to let them go their own way, to let them return, and one night she even tells Lorelei she can take her to Red John in exchange for all the others' safety.

Jane always looks like she's stabbed a knife in his gut when she says that, and Lorelei almost slaps her upside the head. Even Cho doesn't hesitate. "We've made a deal," he says, and Lorelei, who's sitting closer to him than usual, nods.

That night, while Lorelei lies sleeping soundly on the bed next to hers, Lisbon realizes that somewhere along the way, while she grieved for her lost life and clung to Jane, Lorelei and Cho have actually started talking to each other.

With a jolt she remembers one time when Lorelei had told a joke while serving them hand-made biscuits, and Cho had actually _laughed_.

The morning after Jane is busy teaching coin tricks to a cluster of children outside their current motel, and Lorelei has gone to buy new shoes for both women; Lisbon finds the opportunity to sit down next to Cho in the balcony, and they share a comfortable silence while looking at the bright sunset.

"What do you think of Lorelei?" Lisbon asks suddenly, once the sun has finally disappeared.

Cho gives her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked. What do you think of her?"

He gives a shrug, turning his gaze back to the city. "I believe she's one of us now. We can trust her."

Lisbon nods, sipping the orange juice Jane made for her before going to the waiting kids. "We can. But what do you think of her as a person?"

"I think she's changed."

Lisbon gives a long sigh, and the corners of her lips twist upwards at the sound of children cheering and Jane shouting something in his merriest voice. "I think she's found herself again," she says. "Became who she was before... before everything that happened to her."

That day she and Cho do not exchange another word. But when night comes and Lisbon pretends to be fast asleep on the screeching bed, Lorelei slips out of their room and Lisbon can't resist the urge to follow her.

She is caught between gaping and smiling at the sight of her and Cho playing a board game in the dim lamplight of the lounge room, and she feels more than hears Jane fall in step behind her.

"Now this is a happy development," he whispers, and she nudges him with her shoulder.

"Come on, let's go upstairs and leave them be," she says, and he gives her a wide grin.

"Do you want to play a board game too?"

She shrugs. "Sure, why not?"

They play Monopoly and Scrabble, laughing and fighting until the first crack of dawn, and for the first time in weeks Lisbon feels truly happy and carefree.

* * *

Lisbon and Lorelei have one of their worst fights the day the latter suggests they leave for Europe. Both Jane and Cho try to mediate and calm them down with soothing words, but they turn on the two men in unison and lock them out of the hotel room, leaving them stranded in the empty hallway, exchanging questioning looks.

A good few hours pass before Jane timidly opens the door to their room and steps in, bracing himself for another vehement outburst, but instead he is greeted with the sight of the two women sitting together on the double bed, laughing about something one of them has said. Lorelei is lying on her stomach, inspecting the fresh pink polish on her nails, while Lisbon's sitting cross-legged beside her, braiding her long hair with nimble fingers. She makes a disappointed sound when the ending credits of _Sex and the City_ roll on the TV, but Lorelei is quick to pick up the remote control and flip through the channels for another program.

"We'll leave for Kiev in a week," Lisbon informs him. "We really need some elegant vacation."

Jane hovers in the threshold, unsure about the scene unfolding before him. Eventually he rolls his eyes and sets his shoulder against the door frame. "Women," he sighs.

Lisbon throws the pillow at him, eliciting a rippling laugh from Lorelei and a huff from Jane, who is somehow able to duck before the offending object finds its target.

"Men," she says derisively as he pulls himself back together, but can't stop the smile that slowly forms on her lips.

* * *

Lorelei thinks she's spotted two of FBI's men one day, and she tells Lisbon to wait in the room while she and Cho investigate to see if they are Red John's. Jane stays behind to make sure she doesn't try to follow them. Even though she has stopped asking them to go back, they still fear her self-sacrificial streak.

Lisbon has hardly been alone with Jane since coming to Rio, except from the one night they spent together playing board games, as the four of them have sought safety in numbers.

She has never once tried to deny her rising feelings for him since this whole mess began; and she can feel the mutual attraction like a prickling ball of molten heat when they're together, yet neither of them has acknowledged what lies between them.

She _knows_ he feels things for her too, but he has never acted upon his desires because he didn't want to make her a target for Red John. She is sure of it, and she wouldn't believe him if he tried to deny it. But now that the bloody target on her back is clear as day, she can't help but think there is nothing to keep them from laying their feelings on the table.

Sometimes her gaze falls on the gold wedding band around his finger, and she feels guilt choking her, hates herself for even thinking to make her move on a man still desperately in love with the ghost of his wife.

But then she catches his unspoken cues, the way he allows himself to be close to her like he has never done before, the way his eyes sparkle every time they sit close enough to touch.

The hours pass in near-silence, and Lisbon grows more tense with each passing minute. Every new second could be the one which a brainwashed man knocks down the door, shoots Jane dead, gives her no time to reach for her own gun and carries her back to California.

The fear makes her reckless, drives her to do what she hasn't had the nerve to do before.

Wordlessly, she walks over to Jane and wraps her arms around his neck as though they're going to dance. He opens his mouth to say something, either to protest or urge her on – she doesn't really care, but she stands on the tip of her toes and lets her lips brush against his throat. He stiffens but doesn't step back, his hands falling to wrap loosely at the small of her back. She almost smiles when she feels him twitch where she is pressing her lower body against his.

She moves her lips from his neck to his mouth, and before he can make a sound they're kissing, their lips melting together in a slow, passionate dance. It is everything she's ever imagined, and more. And _God_, it's been way too long a wait.

Finally, he groans against her lips and his hands slide down her hips, tightening around her ass and pulling her against him with such urgency, so tightly that she feels almost bruised.

She pulls away, running her tongue along her lower lip, and shoves him down onto the bed. A second later she's straddling him. He reaches up to rake his fingers through her hair, making her close her eyes momentarily and moan.

"Teresa," he whispers hoarsely, just before she brings her mouth down to his.

A shifting behind her, and she realizes with a jolt that they're not alone any more.

"We're safe," Cho says when she pulls away from Jane to look at him, still panting. The other man folds his arms before his chest. "I can see how worried you guys are."

Lisbon rolls her eyes and gives an awkward, breathless laugh, feeling color rush to her cheeks. She wants to scramble out of the bed and try to convince Cho this is not what it looks like, but suddenly it all seems so ridiculous she doesn't even bother climbing off Jane. "That's great. Now you should probably go somewhere else, unless you want first row tickets to Fugitive Skinemax."

Below her, Jane lets out a chocked laugh. At her uncharacteristically blasé attitude, she thinks. But she's a wanted woman, being hunted by one of the worst monsters around, and bound to be captured some day, and if that doesn't bother her, nothing really can.

She glances down at Jane, his eyes wide and wild with lust. Knowing Cho will promptly turn around and exit the room, she flattens herself into Jane, lowering her lips to his once again. She opens her mouth to allow his tongue access as his fingers work their way under her blouse.

She hears the door creak, and figures it's Cho leaving.

"_Oh_," Lorelei says, and Lisbon doesn't think the surprise in her voice is feigned. Lisbon growls in frustration and pulls away from Jane once again, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Jane's hands still but do not withdraw.

Lorelei's carefully constructed pout is back in a flash as she smirks winsomely at Cho. "That mean housekeeper is cleaning my room again. I'm _bored_."

Lorelei probably expects Cho to accompany her into town (there are half a dozen upscale clothing stores here where she adores playing dress-up with anyone willing to be there with her as her audience), and her eyes widen when he steps forward purposefully instead, and kisses her.

Lisbon looks back at Jane, whose hands linger at the curve of her breasts, and is aware of the shocked look on her own face. He gives a shrug and a small smile. "A happy development indeed," he mumbles, and she is caught between laughing and wanting to slap him.

Instead she rolls her eyes and doesn't turn around when she hears the door creak again, signaling Cho and Lorelei have left. The sudden allure of sex and the thrill of being alive one more day overtake her, and she lets Jane roll her over. Lets him almost rip off her buttons opening her blouse, lets him unbuckle her jeans and nudge her knees apart when they're off. Lets his fingers slide past her soaked underwear, and then his hard length presses into her.

It feels like she has waited a thousand years for this moment.

After that, they don't bother pairing off by gender anymore.


End file.
